


Like A Bruise

by inlovewithnight



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-18
Updated: 2012-06-18
Packaged: 2017-11-08 00:25:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/437080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete is going to punch Frank Iero in the mouth. He's been thinking about it all day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like A Bruise

Pete is going to punch Frank Iero in the mouth. He's been thinking about it all day.

He actually can't remember exactly what Frank said last night before they left work, but he woke up pissed as hell and thinking about how hard he was going to punch Frank in the face, so it must've been _something_. Frank is always saying shit that deserves an ass-kicking. Today Pete's going to do the world a favor and knock his teeth down his throat.

He's looking forward to it so much that he loses track of time and misses the bus he usually takes, has to run three blocks to catch a different one, and is ten minutes late anyway.

"What have I told you, Pete?" Jake says, glaring across the bar as Pete scrambles inside.

"Dude, the bus." Pete shakes his head and tries to look pitiful. "We don't even open for half an hour. Don't be a dick."

"Wanting you to be here on time isn't being a dick. It's being your boss."

"Dude, c'mon."

"Just get dressed and set up. Jesus, Pete."

Pete goes back to the storage room and finds a clean club t-shirt. He used to just keep shirts at home and wear them in, like a uniform or whatever, but his dog kept chewing them up or they got moldy and weird and eventually Jake decided it was easier to keep shirts at the club for him and Frank and just send them out to get washed with the bar and kitchen towels.

"Where's Frank?" Pete asks when he comes back out, officially dressed and feeling like a tool.

"He's even later than you. I should fire you both."

Pete really hopes he's kidding. Getting fired again would suck. This is his fifth gig as a bouncer in the last two years, along with a brief stint in construction and an even briefer one at Starbucks. "Fire him first, he's later."

"Go turn the house lights on."

Pete does as he's told. 

Frank shows up ten minutes before opening, ignores Jake's lecture while he's putting on his t-shirt, and steps up to the door just as Pete's setting up the stamp pad and ticket scanner. "Which one am I tonight?" Frank asks, sounding bored.

"Tickets." Stamping offers more contact with the ladies. 

Frank doesn't object, which is suspicious. Pete watches him out of the corner of his eye while they let the crowd in. Tonight's band is something weird and stupid that Pete doesn't approve of at all. Normally Frank would be rolling his eyes and making comments about it, too, but he's all quiet. Double suspicious.

When there's a lull in the crowd, Pete turns to him and says conversationally, "I'm going to punch you in the face when we get off tonight."

Frank stares at him. "Why?"

"That thing you said last night."

"What?"

"You know what, asshole." He probably doesn't. It doesn't matter. Pete's working up a good head of belligerence and by the way Frank's eyes just narrowed, so is he. Awesome. Tonight just got like 60% less boring.

"I didn't say shit to you last night," Frank says. "And if you try to punch me, I'll kick your ass."

"In your dreams." Pete bounces on the balls of his feet, getting revved up, but then the late rush starts and they both have to shut up and do their jobs. Customers ruin everything.

They don't have a chance to do more than look at each other again until clock-out, when the place is empty and semi-cleaned-up and Jake is actually smiling. Apparently enough dumb frat boys came to this show and tried to impress girls and each other that the club is solidly in the black for the night. Pete doesn't really care, he gets paid whether it's a good night or a bad one, but the waitresses are smiling, too, because they made good on tips, and maybe that means he can get one of them to go home with him.

He thinks about that on his way to the back room to strip out of his t-shirt, right up until he walks into Frank's fist.

"What the _fuck_?" Pete demands from his new place on the floor.

"You said you were going to punch me. I punch first, bro." Frank jumps up and down, swinging his arms like he's getting ready for an actual fight or something. "Fucking bring it, jackass."

Pete doesn't waste a lot of time on thinking. He just launches himself at Frank's knees, and a minute later they're both rolling around on the floor, kicking and punching and biting. Jake's going to kill them both, but Pete's got his dignity and his reputation to think about, here. Both of them demand that he break Frank's face.

Frank manages to roll him over onto his back and get him pinned, which sucks, and sucks doubly when Pete realizes that he's got the world's most poorly-timed boner. Goddamn it.

Frank looks at Pete's crotch and blinks. "Oh." His eyes dart to Pete's face, and Pete braces himself for a fresh round of insults and punches.

Instead, Frank says "You wanna? Because that would be a lot more fun than kicking your ass."

"You're not kicking my ass, asshole. I'm kicking your ass."

"I'm the one on top."

Pete glares at him. "I'm lulling you into submission."

"Dude." Frank snorts with laughter and shakes his head. "Dude."

Then he slides down, unzips Pete's jeans, and takes Pete's dick in his mouth, bringing the grand total of Pete's shift to one black eye, one phone number from a sorority girl, and one blowjob. Overall he's coming out a winner.


End file.
